If You Can’t Afford The Books…

SPIDER-MAN: Iron Man, thank God you’re here to help me against the dread menace of… uh… hmm… what was your name again?

TRACER: Tracer.

SPIDER-MAN: Right, Tracer. Truly, a harrowing foe.

IRON MAN: I think I’d rather PUNCH YOUR FACE IN!

SPIDER-MAN: Taken to the drink again I see.

IRON MAN: No, Tracer’s controlling my armor!

SPIDER-MAN: Tony, denial isn’t helping anyone…

—–

MORLUN: NOW? Now the story decides to pick up the pace (although not really, as the fight stretches into next issue)? Don’t you want to hear about how I came back from the dead?

SPIDER-MAN: Not really. I mean, you’re still Morlun. No one cares about you. No one will ever care about you. You’re just another pet-project character that a creator tries to shove down the audience’s throat, like Fusion or Hush. NO ONE LIKES YOU. NO ONE HATES YOU. YOU ARE WORTHLESS.

MORLUN: But I… I eat Spider…

SPIDER-MAN: SHUT UP! God, we just got past overusing Venom to the point that we had him commit SUICIDE just to get him to shut up, not to mention Green Goblin being behind every single thing that’s ever gone wrong in my life! And now YOU come in. Say what you will about Venom and Norman, but at least they started out as good villains. You’re just a pathetic little ***** with delusions of grandeur and an outstanding sense of entitlement who thinks he’s cool. You know what that makes you? That makes you PARIS FUCKING HILTON. So bring it on, because I have had enough of wallowing in self-pity and thinking my wife is dead and finding out dark secrets about the past. Say Gwen cheated on me, fine. Say Uncle Ben molested, go on, I dare you. But don’t think that will stop me. People love me DESPITE you people’s writing, not because of that.